Baseball, and Living Alone

03 May

I loved the late nights with my parents in the front room of our house.  Before we had central air conditioning, we cranked our elbows to open the windows at every end of the house, hoping for a breeze to sweep through the room and momentarily relieve us from the heat.  Dad  in the La-Z-Boy by the window, my mother on the couch.   My brother and I played with Barbies and Matchbox cars on the carpet, the humidity allowing it stick to our elbows and making little pink indentations on our skin.  I loved the stale smell of that brown floor in summer, the way it always seemed old and inviting.  When the heat got to be too much, Mom brought out the sheet, an old pink thing from my twin bed.  Asking Jason and I for help, she tossed the sheet in the air and we jumped for the other corners to pull it loosely over the carpet in front of the TV.  With fans all around me and the air heavy on my shoulders, I slurped Diet Pepsi and waited for the first pitch.

And when a storm blew in, we all started on separate corners of the house, closing the windows and laughing, falling heavily back onto the touch to listen to the thunder.

It’s an odd thing, to not feel that contentment living alone.  To not feel that contentment once middle school ends.  To not feel that contentment once your first student loan bill arrives.  To not feel that contentment when you come home to an empty house every day.

I dealt well with the lack of contentment until this whole living alone gig.  After middle school, I still felt giddy.  The majority of that giddiness was killed with the student loan bills.  But I still had some.  And then I moved into my own apartment, where I close my own windows (all 4 of them) when it storms, and no one else laughs when Mrs. Doubtfire is on.  And if I drop the shampoo in the shower, no one calls to see if I’m okay.  My mother is notorious for this–even when the sound of something falling is in no way a person, she still yells, “Are you alright?” through the bathroom door.  Sometimes, when I’m home at my parents’ house, I’ll drop the shampoo bottle in the shower just to hear my mother say this.

If I know Mike is coming to Ohio on the weekends, I save things for him to do.  When a cabinet broke, even though I knew I could probably fix it, I waited for him.  And when I needed electrical tape to fix my cell phone charger, I waited for him.  When I saw a spider, I considered waiting for him, then realized it was a Wednesday, and I’d probably lose the little sucker before then.

The proportion of people living alone has doubled since the 1970’s.  I understand liking space, but this sucks.  It’s so boring.  I just want someone to eat dinner with, maybe watch a little TV.  Someone to TALK to.  And all the people I talk to on a regular basis, well God love them, but sometimes we just don’t have anything to say.  During these times, it would be perfect just to sit in a room with someone and not have to talk.

Until Mike gets here, I’ll close my own windows, and save things for “us” when I can. 


Posted by on May 3, 2011 in Daily Happenings, Domesticity


Tags: , , , ,

7 responses to “Baseball, and Living Alone

  1. Tim

    May 3, 2011 at 12:11 pm

    I know what you mean…I’ve always lived with people my whole life…growing up, then the Marine Corps, after I had roommates then I got married. It sucked when I got divorced. There was no one to talk to. That’s when Ed and Brent became my best friend 🙂

    • erica42285

      May 3, 2011 at 3:30 pm

      Ha ha maybe that’s what I need–some folks to pal around with.

  2. Lesley

    May 3, 2011 at 1:10 pm

    I have lived alone on and off for the past 3 years. Though it is nice to come home and not have to worry about a crazy party going on or dishes piled up in the sink that someone else left, it was nice when my ex-boyfriend basically lived with me. You’re exactly right: sometimes it’s just nice to not HAVE to talk, sit on the couch, and just know there’s someone next to you. I’m moving in with a friend in August, thankfully, and hope everything goes as smoothly as I expect it to.

    • erica42285

      May 3, 2011 at 3:31 pm

      Oh how I forgot about the party days! I guess at 26, it doesn’t occur to me that I would have a crazy roommate. I do have crazy neighbors, though, who are far younger than me and stink up my hallway with pot and play screamy music (wow, I sound like a crotchety old woman). I’m good with them; they can do what they like.

  3. beckygermain

    May 3, 2011 at 1:16 pm

    I’m not good alone in a silent house long term and by long term, I mean like, longer than 48 hours. I get stir crazy and yet can’t figure out what to do. So I just pace. Or sleep away the day. And that just feels depressing. I would give you all kind of suggestions about what you could do combat this situation, but if you are anything like me, that would just piss me off, so I’ll just good vibes out into the air that living solo comes to end an quickly for ya.

    • erica42285

      May 3, 2011 at 4:59 pm

      That’s pretty much how I am. And you guessed it. Damn we ought to have hung out more. 🙂


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